


Try a little tenderness

by asherxslasher



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asherxslasher/pseuds/asherxslasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a friend as a challenge. Would Harry Dresden ever let someone take care of him? Staying as close to cannon Harry as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The club was a spot harry remembered from an old case. Not a haunting but a missing objects job. The earring had been buried amongst a pile of flogs. He'd gone during open hours (the owner not keen on him sniffing about unsupervised) and there he had seen something that struck him severely. A nearly naked man sprawled across the lap of his skimpily dressed dom, eyes covered by a blind fold. She was rubbing his hair and upper back. He looked happy, at peace. A spike of longing coursed through harry at the sight. There was nothing he wanted so much as to be safe and loved. So there he was again, outside the club. He'd had a visit from lea earlier that day and harry had been so tempted, to give in, be her hound and be loved. He couldn’t let himself give in tho. He went to the Paradiso club instead.

 

With shaking hands and a jumping pulse, harry entered the club. The door opened into a small reception room. Plush chairs lined the wall one side, lockers opposite and a desk with a petite girl sitting, hands folded delicately on the dark wood. The decor was in mate blacks and less murdery shades of red. Harry closed the door and crossed the room slowly, nerves showing in his jerky walk.

 

“First time?” the mousy brunet asked, giving him a kind smile and assessing look. Her black button up shirt was wrinkle free and the maroon tie complimented her rosy skin tone.

 

“Sort of,” Harry said hesitantly. He bit a lip and stared a little left of her eyes. She took pity on him and stepped from behind the desk to lend him a hand.

 

“No fee for first timers. What you're going to want to do is store some of your stuff in one of the lockers,” she said as she eyed his boots'” and then you can pick from a number of accessories we offer.” she directed him to the lockers and watched as he stripped out of his long leather duster and dusty cowboy boots. After a second thought he removed his shirt as well. The woman broke her professional facade with a gasp. Littered over Dresden torso were a myriad of injuries. New and bright bruises layered over faded scar tissue from cuts and burns. A thin red line stretched from his navel to just under his collar bone, a month old wound, at best.

 

Harry gave her a rueful smile too which she returned a more gentle one. “If that,” she gave a nod to his chest, “is what you are looking for I think you can find it but you might want to give your self some recovery time.”

 

Harry blushed and cringed. “no, that’s not. Just no. This is from my job. I don’t want pain.” harry sighed and looked away.

 

“Oh, okay. In that case I’ll spread the word so you don’t get hassled,” she said, “want to have a look at our toys? I think you’d look great in a ball gag.” she pulled him to a wardrobe behind the desk. There were feather boas and leather cuffs and something harry believed was a fox tail that ended in a smooth rubber plug. His eyes fell on a midnight blue eye mask. The edges were lined with silver stars and it tied with a silver cord. He reached out a hand but dropped it at the last second.

 

“You want the blind fold,” the woman said knowingly. She pulled it out for him and raised it to his eyes. “may I?”

 

Harry nodded. She moved behind him and tied it on. The soft fabric blocked out only most of the light. He could still see the vague shape of the wardrobe and the brilliant red of the wall. “that looks great!!” the woman said, “you want me to lead you in? I can take you to were unclaimed subs wait and then tell the bartender what it is you're looking so he can tell those who ask.”

 

“That would be great, thanks,” he said and allowed himself to be pulled through the door to the club proper. She had hooked an arm around his waist and guided him around objects he could dimly make out behind his mask. She stopped them in a corner and helped him to kneel. “go ahead and arrange yourself in whatever way makes you happy but its traditional to kneel.”

 

With the brunets help, harry lowered himself into his meditation pose. Cross legged with spine straight and hands resting on knees. “don’t worry sweety. You’ll be picked up in no time.” she told him. He could hear the grin in her voice.

 

She moved away and harry listened as she approached the bar and spoke with who ever was behind it. “spread the word if you'd please, that the wiccan is not at all interested in pain. He just has a violent job.” there was a grunted reply and then swishing fabric as she left the room.

 

Harry sat completely vulnerable in a room of strangers. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

 

He was startled from his thoughts by a firm grip on his chin. On instinct he grabbed his assailants wrist. “oh feisty,” purred a deep voice, “is that why you’ve been punished so fully? Are you a naughty sub?”

 

Harry pushed the hand away and growled. “back off bub. I'm not interested.”

 

This was really not what harry wanted. This harassment. “fine, freak, who'd want a skinny bastard like you anyway.” the stranger said. He stomped away and left harry alone, again.

 

God, what did he expect? Someone to just know what he wanted and be willing to give it to him? Who would do that? Who would want to? His scared body was proof he attracted nothing but trouble. Harry was just about to leave when he felt someones breath on the back of his neck.

 

“Hello?” harry said. The breath continued and made the wizard shiver. A light touch on one of his numerous scars had him groaning quietly. “please, who are you?”

 

“What do you NEED?” asked a familiar gravely voice. The sound caused something in harry to relax. Before he knew what he was doing the words were out of his mouth. “Safety. I want to be safe.”

 

A soft kiss was pressed against the back of his neck. Harry leaned the tiniest bit in to it. The man didn’t speak again but gently guided harry to his feet. The lanky wizard swayed with the sudden rush of blood. Hands clasped around his waist, leading him around unseen obstacles and into a private room.


	2. Chapter 2

1 HOUR EARLIER

 

“Boss, we've got a sighting of Dresden at one of the clubs,” Hendricks said from the drivers seat. He waited for orders, already knowing what they would be.

 

“Take me there. If I am going to deal with insurance men today, I would at least like to know why,” Marcone said. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through memos and news reports, trying to find what the wizard could be chasing. “Which club is it?”

 

“The Paradiso.” Hendricks replied. Marcone hmmmed.

 

 

Marcone entered through a discreet side door for high paying clients. The club was not one he visited often, for business or pleasure. The place was relatively low trouble but not his usual tastes. In the lowly lit back hallway he removed his jacket, tie, and watch. Hendricks followed suit and added his gun to the pile. They silently moved passed private rooms and in to the club. And there he was. Johns eyes were instantly drawn to the pale kneeling form of his...his what exactly? The wizard was not his. Had refused many times to be so. Dresden was nothing to him and yet, yet he was so much more than nothing. He was a distraction, a pain in his ass, and so god damned beautiful. When they had soul gazed it had been all John could do not to lean forward and kiss the stunned look off his face.

Thinking back on what he'd seen in those few seconds made him want to simultaneously destroy every unclean creature that had marked his man and steal him away to somewhere the evils of this world couldn't touch him. Looking at him now, eyes covered, head bent in meditation, the same feelings coursed through him. Possession and longing. And then anger. A short man, Napoleon complex written all over his leather loafers, grabbed Harry’s chin. Marcone stepped forward to inter seed only to stop and watch Harry reject the man. He allowed himself a small smile. Then segued to the bar. Bartenders always had the information. The bar was only half crowded and they all had their drinks so the blonde bartender headed straight for him.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“The sub kneeling in the corner, any information?” Marcone countered.

“Ah, new guy, or the wiccan. Despite the narly scars he doesn't actually want pain.” He said.

“Then what does he want?” Marcone asked, he kept his eyes on Harry, making sure no one else approached his pray. If his hunch was right, Dresden was not here for a case. This just might be his chance.

“From what I gather, he wants to be looked after, no wonder with a violent job like that.” The bartender said.

“Hmm,” Marcone mumbled in thought, “thank you.” He passed him a fifty dollar bill and stepped away. If Harry wanted care, he could care. He would give His wizard anything and everything he needed. With a quick gesture to Hendricks, the large man left.

Slowly, he circled Harry's kneeling form, making sure to be as quiet as possible. One thing he had discovered about the man was his preternatural hearing sense. He crouched and leaned close, just breathing in his sent. He saw Harry tense.

“Hello?” Harry said, barely above a whisper.

John lifted one hand and let his fingers trail over an old scar on Harry's shoulder. It was from a knife blade, he decided.

“Please, who are you?” Harry asked. He sounded so nervous and on edge. The need to reassure his wizard over took his will to stay anonymous.

“What do you NEED?” He asked, hoping to startle an answer from the normally sarcastic man.

“Safety. I want to be safe,” Harry said, sounding surprised even as he said it. Oh Harry, Marcone thought, you will be safe, in my arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck and smiled when Harry leaned into it.

John pulled away and stood. Then reached down a hand to bring Harry to his feet. There was a room in the back reserved for VIPs that he steered them toward. He needed privacy if he was to tend to his wizard.


	3. Chapter 3

The door closed with a soft click. Harry tensed immediately. John felt it through his grip on Harrys hip. He stroked his hip bone with one finger, gentling him like a startled animal. Harry was in some ways. Skittish of most forms of touch, if what Johns agents had reported was accurate. And John had seen that particular look of panic and desperation in the wizards eyes on a few occasions. With the blindfold on, Harry wouldn't be able to see anything John was doing, if he was about to touch him, or stab him. It was the most trust the man had ever given him. John vowed to himself to make sure that was not misplaced. He let his other hand hover over Harrys chest, so close that Harry had to feel the heat of Johns chest against his back and Johns hand over his heart. He moved closer until he was just barely touching. Harry shivered and let out a breath, his muscles relaxing a fraction.

John let the pressure of his touch increase gradually until he had Harry in a firm hold. His right hand, the one on Harrys hip, started stroking back and forth across Harrys stomach. Johns nose was pressed to the vertebra directly below the nape of his neck and he gave the spot a little nip with his teeth. Harry let out a small noise at the sharp sensation. Hesitantly, Harry lift a hand to cover the one John had over his heart. John smiled ever so slightly and began to lave at the spot he'd bitten with his tongue. The moan Harry let out at that was truly obscene. His head tilted forward to give Marcone more access to his neck. John took the invitation and pulled Harry even closer to himself, his half hard cock pressing into Harrys ass. Harry jumped at that and started to pull away, turning to face John.

“I can't,” Harry said, color rushing to his face. “sex, not, I,”

John cut him off with a finger to his chapped lips. He let his finger stroke over those lips and then replaced it with his thumb, griping the unshaven chin.

“Okay,” John murmured. “No sex, whatever you need.”

Harry visibly relaxed at that and John pulled him back towards him. Harry went, wrapping his own arms around Johns torso and burring his head in the other mans neck. The smell was pleasant, something expensive that Harry was sure he'd smelt before. The thought was chased out of his mind by Johns hands caressing over his scared back. John moved one hand to a cut that he'd seen earlier that looked so fresh as to have been made that morning. Harry hissed and nuzzled closer. Gingerly, John felt along the wound. It wasn't deep but he doubted Harry had taken care to clean it. With a task in mind, John herded Harry to the chaise lounge that rested near one wall. Disentangling Harry from John took a little longer than necessary. Harry didn't want to give up the comforting smell. Eventually, John got Harry laying on the lounge, face down.

“I'm going to bandage you up,” John whispered in his ear, “this wound could get infected.”

Harry wanted to tell him that, being a wizard, such a minor cut wouldn't get infected but he liked the idea of someone patching him up. The last person to do that had been Butters and it had all been professional distance and efficiency. Marcone moved away and Harry bit his lip. He could feel anticipation build in his gut. It was ridiculous, he knew, John had told him exactly what he was going to do but each touch was unexpected and the unknown was thrilling for once, instead of terrifying.

Marcone pulled out the med kit normally used for after care in extremely intense scenes, normally involving wips. He set the kit next to the lounge and sat at Harrys side, letting one hand rest firmly on the wizards lower back. He used his other hand to pull out the bottle of antiseptic and a package of cotton balls.

“This is going to sting,” Marcone said and caressed the wizards back. His hand traveled up to his shoulder blade before running down the arm closest to him. He pulled Harrys hand to his knee and squeezed it, silently instructing him to keep it there. “Squeeze if you like.” Marcone started to dab at the reddened flesh. Instantly Harrys grip on his leg tightened. John worked quickly and thoroughly.

He dropped the last cotton swab into a small bin near the head of the lounge. In short, efficient movements he bandaged the cut with gauze and then taped it into place. Finally he placed a gentle kiss to the center of the bandage and grabbed the hand that had yet to move from his knee. John threaded their fingers. The wizards knuckles were knobbly and littered in scars, cuts and burns and one that John was sure was some kind of bite mark. John decided to kiss that mark too and lifted the hand to his mouth and did so. Harry let out a snort of amusement. Deciding to reward the emotional openness of the gesture, John let his other hand drift into Harrys hair and begin to lightly scratch. Almost instantly, Harry melted into the lounge.


End file.
